Tetrahedra and octahedra assembled to this object... .. I love how it can be regarded as art.... but also be used as a practical item to store stuff and build lamp shields and whatever...
... one can also turn it into a tiny hanging shelf to store lightweight stuff like origami models...
Back in October I was one of the guest artists for the break between chapters of Widdershins, but due to Circumstances I didn't post about it here at the time. Better late than never, I suppose, so here's my guest comic! This is right after Eliza gets the scoop about the Fourth Anchor from Verity and Lei.
(Also: go read Widdershins if you aren't already! It's my favorite webcomic ever, and it's just beginning its last chapter.)
Inspiration for a large coastal loft-style light wood floor and vaulted ceiling living room remodel with a standard fireplace and a stacked stone fireplace
There is a melt clock with clock hands that split and somehow stick stickily together. The split hour clock hands turn into the petals of a plant.
From these two petals two tadpoles drop down - one tadpole is older/more evolved than the other tadpole.
The split minute clock hands turn into very thin petals/straws. The tadpoles are falling down the hour-clock-hands- petals onto the minute-clock-hands- straws, sliding down into the melt clock. The melt clock has root-like structures on its dial.
The plant is blossoming with a blossom that is a bit similar to that of an orchid. The orchid-like blossom has a tiny chamber in the shape of half a walnut. A tiny frog is sitting in that tiny chamber, looking out and having large eyes. The frog looks relaxed. The frog's hands slightly hang down from the blossom.
In his 1956 book The Marlinspike Sailor, marine illustrator Hervey Garrett Smith wrote that rope is “probably the most remarkable product known to mankind.” On its own, a stray thread cannot accomplish much. But when several fibers are twisted into yarn, and yarn into strands, and strands into string or rope, a once feeble thing becomes both strong and flexible—a hybrid material of limitless possibility. A string can cut, choke, and trip; it can also link, bandage, and reel. String makes it possible to sew, to shoot an arrow, to strum a chord. It’s difficult to think of an aspect of human culture that is not laced through with some form of string or rope; it has helped us develop shelter, clothing, agriculture, weaponry, art, mathematics, and oral hygiene. Without string, our ancestors could not have domesticated horses and cattle or efficiently plowed the earth to grow crops. If not for rope, the great stone monuments of the world—Stonehenge, the Pyramids at Giza, the moai of Easter Island—would still be recumbent. In a fiberless world, the age of naval exploration would never have happened; early light bulbs would have lacked suitable filaments; the pendulum would never have inspired advances in physics and timekeeping; and there would be no Golden Gate Bridge, no tennis shoes, no Beethoven’s fifth symphony.
“Everybody knows about fire and the wheel, but string is one of the most powerful tools and really the most overlooked,” says Saskia Wolsak, an ethnobotanist at the University of British Columbia who recently began a PhD on the cultural history of string. “It’s relatively invisible until you start looking for it. Then you see it everywhere.”
— The Long, Knotty, World-Spanning Story of String